


Blue Looks Good on You

by DualWieldingCousland (DualWieldingMama)



Series: When Life Gives You a Blight ... [12]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 18:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4676513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualWieldingMama/pseuds/DualWieldingCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This sprung from a silly thing on facebook, prompted by a question from the lovely and spectacular felandaris and continued by Eravalefantasy.  This popped in my head, and after the tiniest snippet posted on facebook, this decided to come out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Looks Good on You

**Author's Note:**

> Felandaris & Eravalefantasy, I blame you.

“I _swear_ , Alistair … _someone_ is following us. They’ve been behind us the last five streets!”

Alistair watched as she glanced over her shoulder for what seemed like the hundredth time. They were wandering through the streets and alleys of Denerim, enjoying a rare break in their quest. Wynne and Leliana were busy replenishing their supplies, while the others were doing a variety of things that they felt needed done: Sten and Jasper had set about procuring new items to care for the group’s armor and weapons, Morrigan was acquiring supplies for potion making, with Zevran tagging along in order to find poison ingredients … so he claimed. Oghren was … checking the quality of the Gnawed Noble’s ale … for _their_ safety, he said. Shale was off likely swatting pigeons.

“It’s just your imagination, love.” He loved the woman holding his hand, and could, most times, understand why she was always checking their surroundings; people had this nasty habit of trying to kill them. But sometimes, he felt she just got a little too paranoid. “I’m sure he’s not actually following us. These _are_ fairly busy streets, I mean.”

“But he’s gone down _every_ street we have. And he’s making no effort to catch up or pass us.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him to almost a stop. After a few seconds of walking at a snail’s pace, she looked over her shoulder again and hissed, “He slowed down _too_. I tell you, Alistair, he’s _following_ us! We’re in a bloody _alley_ , Alistair!” When he just gave her another patient look, she sighed. “Dammit, I am _going_ to find out why. You keep walking. I’ll hide and wait til he goes past, then catch him in the act.”

“Wait, you’re going to wha- ?”

Without letting him finish, she disappeared into a cloud of smoke; one of her tricks that he _hated_ seeing her use on him. He just shook his head and kept walking, muttering about overreacting and being paranoid, reminding himself that she _had_ lost her entire family, then the wardens to treachery and around every corner it seemed someone _was_ trying to kill them, so paranoia wasn’t totally misplaced.

She crept her way around a side alley or two, moving so she could be in a better position when whomever was stalking behind them passed her. She didn’t necessarily want to _kill_ him; she just wanted to know why he was following them. Knowing who was out to get them was always preferable to not knowing. She stayed back, using the shadows as best she could to hide her presence from the unknown individual. She _finally_ saw him slip by … Maker’s ass, was Alistair slowing him down on purpose just to torment her?

Without taking a closer look, she jumped out of the shadows, blades drawn. “Why are you following us?” she demanded, stopping her blade just before making contact with his side. She heard a high-pitched scream and saw the man’s arms fly up, throwing _something_ in the air. She heard Alistair’s voice yelling for her to look out as she glared at the stranger who had scrambled and fallen backwards and was now cowering at her feet. She was about to say something else when a cold liquid washed over her, plastering her hair to her head, covering her armor and turning her vision … blue. Her gasp of shock was cut short by the bucket the man had been carrying hitting her in the head. “Andraste’s flaming _ass_!”

“Maker, have mercy. I’m so sorry, m’lady.” The stranger still cowered, unsure exactly what was going on. He just knew this armed woman had jumped out at him, swung a sword at him, was now covered in blue dye and had gotten clocked by his bucket. “Please forgive me.”

“It’s alright, ser.” Alistair sprinted over, fighting back the urge to say ‘I told you so’. “She’ll be fine. What were you doing, so we can reimburse you for the … ah, the … whatever that was?”

“It was dye, ser; blue dye. I was taking it to the dressmaker, ser. Her shop is just there.” He pointed at a door partially hidden by crates near the end of the alley. “She don’t like me taking her dye on the main ways; thinks people’ll steal her recipe … some Orlesian method, she says.” He rose, wringing his hands nervously. “Maker, she’ll whip me for sure me for wasting this batch.”

Regan just stood there, dripping, covered in blue dye almost head-to-toe. Her normally red hair became purple, her leather armor turning from appropriately camouflaging brown to a strange shade of muddy blue. Even the silver bits looked to be turning colors. She’d have to buy a whole new set of armor, _and weapons_. She did the only thing she could think of … glare at both the man who’d dumped it on her, never mind it had been _her_ fault in the first place, and Alistair, whom she could tell was trying _not_ to laugh, and at least doing a half-way decent job of it.

“Tell her the grey wardens … procured it for ‘Warden Business’,” Alistair advised, trying to make it sound as official as possible. He gingerly plucked the cleanest coin purse he could from her belt and counted out what he figured would be a fair amount of coin. “Tell her we appreciate her aide, and the wardens will not forget that she helped the cause. Now, you might want to hurry along before my friend regains her power of speech. She’s capable of … very ... flowery language when agitated.”

The man didn’t need telling twice; he scrambled away like the archdemon itself was after him. When they were alone, Alistair bit back a laugh as he reached out for her. “You were right; dastardly assassin, that man.” Her glare would have been enough to set him right to apologizing a few months earlier, but now, he just smiled. He slipped an arm around her, ignoring the blue that started coloring his own armor. “I think blue might just be your color, my lady.” He laughed as she nudged him sulkily with her shoulder, refraining from opening her mouth to prevent paint from being swallowed. “Come on, love. Let’s go find a place to get you cleaned up, where _no one_ else can see us.”


End file.
